If not for Cheng Yanqing’s phone call, Cheng Wanyue might have kissed him back right there on the street.

Qing Hang had not only learned how to engage in “money for affection transactions,” but he’d also learned how to play games. Of course, Cheng Wanyue wasn’t one to be taken advantage of either.

Cheng Yanqing could have continued nagging for another ten minutes, but his girlfriend took the phone. Though she couldn’t return to China for now, she hadn’t forgotten to prepare a birthday gift for Cheng Wanyue.

“Yueyue, I heard from your brother that you might be heading toward a relationship lately. Is that true?”

“You two still have time to chat about this stuff?” Cheng Wanyue was wearing earphones, so Qing Hang could only hear her side of the conversation.

Even though the two people in the video appeared properly dressed and presentable, Cheng Wanyue knew it wasn’t that simple. Cheng Yanqing wasn’t someone who could restrain himself. His girlfriend was two years younger than Cheng Wanyue and had an even more fiery temperament. A brief separation is like a new marriage—dry tinder meeting intense flames. Previously, every time they met, they’d spend several days just in bed, not even leaving the hotel. This time would certainly be no different.

“We need to rest sometimes. As we were chatting, your name came up. Hurry up, I’m waiting for us to get married together.”

“My brother would be furious at that. He’s looking forward to marrying you every day. If he had to wait for me, too, who knows how many years that would take?”

“You don’t plan to get married?”

“…I haven’t reached that stage yet.”

“Yueyue, let me tell you, you must prepare that thing in advance. Don’t be foolish. When men get aroused, they’re all the same.”

That one sentence ignited the flames of war. They started arguing again. Cheng Yanqing’s face darkened as he scooped up his girlfriend with one arm while hanging up the phone.

Today, Cheng Wanyue accompanied Qing Hang on the subway. He was still feverish with a slightly elevated temperature, though much better than in the morning. But because of his fair skin, his reddened ears were particularly noticeable under the lights. Wearing glasses and carrying her bag, his clean appearance made him look like a student, as if she had been bullied.

“There’s a seat over there, let’s go.”

Qing Hang looked in the direction she was pointing, then held her hand as they moved through two train cars. “You sit.”

Cheng Wanyue insisted that he take the seat. “I’ve been sitting all evening. I want to stand.”

She had seen him right after she got off work. She didn’t know how long he had been waiting outside.

Since she wouldn’t sit, Qing Hang wouldn’t either. “Then we’ll both stand.”

The subway car wasn’t particularly crowded. Cheng Wanyue stood close to him. More than half an hour had passed, but she didn’t say anything, and he hadn’t let go of her hand.

“Why do you smell like something sweet?” She leaned in closer and sniffed near his chest. “It’s like cream.”

When Qing Hang was buying cake, a customer wasn’t watching where they were going and bumped into him with their plate, getting cream on his clothes. He had gone to Cheng Wanyue’s place to get some things, then went back, but hadn’t had time to change.

“Stand properly. Don’t move around.”

Cheng Wanyue was touching the buttons on his shirt. The last time she went to the hospital for a follow-up, she had seen him wearing a white coat with a light-colored shirt underneath.

She whispered, “Just now my brother’s girlfriend told me to prepare that thing, just in case. Should we stop by the supermarket?”

“Which thing?”

“You know… that thing.”

Half a minute later, Qing Hang realized what she meant. Cheng Wanyue’s words were even harder to handle than when she suddenly sent him that photo with strawberry kiss marks while he was paying at his dessert shop.

She was about to speak again. Before she could say something even bolder, Qing Hang quickly covered her mouth. “Shh.”

It wasn’t a rebuke; it was more like he was coaxing her. Qing Hang pushed her back two steps until she was leaning against the door, his body turned sideways to block the view of people nearby.

His glasses couldn’t hide his expression, nor did they diminish the emotions in his eyes. Cheng Wanyue was all too familiar with this look. In the past, at home, when she provoked him, he would silently throw her onto the bed and deal with her. But at school, he was very patient. No matter what she said or did, he showed no reaction. He would keep reading when he needed to read, keep doing problems when he needed to do problems. Even if she tore the classroom apart, he wouldn’t budge. He would only look at her when no one was around, with helplessness and a hint of pleading—very subtle, but completely exposed by his thoroughly reddened ears.

Sometimes she felt he was a stranger to her. Eight years wasn’t eight days. During those eight years, they knew nothing about each other’s lives and hadn’t participated in important stages of each other’s lives: high school graduation, college graduation, entering the workforce.

But sometimes she felt that he was still the same person as before.

Her eyes were beautiful. Being stared at by her without blinking made Qing Hang uncomfortable. He had just released his hand when she opened her mouth to speak, so he covered it again.

This time, he applied more pressure than before, and Cheng Wanyue bit him.

After arriving at their stop, Qing Hang pulled her out with obvious relief.

As they passed the supermarket entrance, Cheng Wanyue kept turning her head to look inside. Qing Hang walked faster and faster, practically dragging her home.

There was an additional pair of women’s slippers on the shoe rack, brand new.

Cheng Wanyue put them on and took a couple of steps. They fit perfectly. “I’m so thirsty. I need water.”

Qing Hang said, “There’s some in the refrigerator.”

Cheng Wanyue preferred cold drinks, but he couldn’t have them. She casually put a kettle of water on to boil before opening the refrigerator door, immediately spotting the strawberry cake inside.

“Qing Hang, this cake… can I have some?”

“Go ahead. Just something I picked up.”

She didn’t use a spoon. After washing her hands and taking out the cake, she stood in front of the refrigerator and took a bite. Qing Hang watched her satisfied little expression and couldn’t help smiling, disguising it with a cough when she turned around.

“Wow! This is exactly the taste I wanted!”

“Take your time. It’s all yours,” he handed her a tissue. “Wipe your face.”

Cheng Wanyue tilted her face up toward him. “I don’t have hands. Help me wipe it.”

There was cream on the tip of her nose and at the corner of her mouth, as well as on her fingers. Qing Hang helped wipe her nose. She didn’t stop eating, looking like a little hamster. He managed to clean her nose and cheeks, but she licked the cream off her fingers herself.

Qing Hang watched as she removed her fingers from between her lips, now glistening with moisture. He couldn’t tell if she was doing this intentionally or not.

Cheng Wanyue held up the cake. “Take a bite. Eat the part with strawberries.”

She still had cream at the corner of her mouth. Qing Hang looked away. “I don’t want any.”

“Are you disgusted by me?” She seemed a bit unhappy. “This morning, you were perfectly happy to taste my saliva, but tonight, you’re disgusted by the cake I’ve bitten? Qing Hang, who exactly taught you to be so bad?”

Qing Hang immediately lowered his head and took a big bite from the spot where she had eaten, which finally satisfied her.

Cheng Wanyue had originally intended to eat just a little, but as she tasted it, she wanted a bit more, then a bit more after that. Before she knew it, she had finished the entire small cake.

Qing Hang poured water for her. “Are you still hungry?”

“I’m full,” Cheng Wanyue lay on the sofa, patting her stomach. “I’ll rest for a while. You go shower first and take your medicine before getting some rest.”

Qing Hang showered quickly. When he came out dressed, he saw that Cheng Wanyue had laid out all the sleepwear, underwear, and bras he’d brought over on the sofa.

It wasn’t clear if she was pleased or displeased; she smiled one moment and frowned the next.

Qing Hang draped the towel over his shoulder and went over to help her tidy up. “It’s all yours. Why look at it for so long?”

“I’m checking which sets you brought me,” Cheng Wanyue picked up a black lace silk nightgown and waved it in front of Qing Hang. “Do you have a special thing for lace?”

He dropped the towel over her face, blocking her view.

“Go shower. I’m turning off the lights in ten minutes.”

“It’s just a personal fetish. What’s there to be embarrassed about?” She smiled and winked at him. “If you change into light gray sweatpants, I might consider wearing this for you.”

Qing Hang lowered his head as he folded clothes. “You don’t have to wear anything at all.”

Cheng Wanyue:?

Qing Hang realized he had misspoken and stopped what he was doing.

“Hmph, you wish,” Cheng Wanyue glared at him before heading off to wash up with a flourish.

Qing Hang waited until she finished before preparing to rest. She wore that black nightgown, her skin gleaming white. All the marks that had been hidden by clothing during the day were now exposed to the air.

She didn’t look at him, humming a tune and slowly walking past him. Her slipper fell off, and she slightly lifted the hem of her dress, bending down to put it back on.

Qing Hang noticed another hidden kiss mark on the inside of her thigh.

The fever-reducing medicine he had just taken wouldn’t work that quickly. Qing Hang felt a headache coming on. He turned off the lights and lay on the sofa, a wave of restless heat spreading across his back.

The medication made him drowsy, but his sleep remained light.

The bedroom door was closed. He shouldn’t have been able to hear any movement, but he kept feeling as if she was right beside him, turning over or kicking off the covers, making soft rustling sounds.

At some point in the night, Cheng Wanyue suddenly came out of the bedroom and strode into the living room.

Qing Hang asked softly, “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve been thinking, I can’t take yesterday’s loss.” Cheng Wanyue knelt with one leg on the edge of the sofa and swung her other leg over Qing Hang, squeezing herself against the inside of the sofa. “I’m going to bully you for five minutes.”

As soon as she finished speaking, she leaned down, cupping Qing Hang’s face in both hands.

She wasn’t sitting steadily and almost fell. Qing Hang instinctively raised his hands to support her waist. The moment he opened his mouth, her soft tongue slipped between his teeth.

Qing Hang bit her lip gently as he held it between his own. She let out a small cry of pain, and he turned the tables, taking control.

The silk nightgown might as well not have been there. Her soft breasts, which he couldn’t fully grasp, pressed against him.

As Cheng Wanyue touched his neck, she heard him swallow, his Adam’s apple moving slightly against her palm.

These five minutes were both endless and fleeting.

Endless was the torment; fleeting was the kiss.

But he didn’t know that several five-minute intervals had already passed.

Cheng Wanyue lay against the hollow of his neck, catching her breath. “You’ve improved ten points, but you’re still far from perfect. You need to keep working at it.”

Qing Hang carried her back to the bedroom like that, only to discover that the window was open and she hadn’t turned on the air conditioner. No wonder she hadn’t felt cold earlier.

She was very sensitive to heat.

He looked for the remote control on the table. “I’ll lock your door from the inside.”

Cheng Wanyue hugged her pillow, adjusting to find the most comfortable sleeping position. “No need. I’m not used to strange places. If the door isn’t open, I have trouble sleeping. Just leave it like this.”

“Aren’t you hot?”

“It’s fine.”

Although she said that, she tossed and turned from the heat in the middle of the night.

Qing Hang knew she was asleep. He quietly went to turn on the air conditioner for her, covered her with a blanket, then closed the window and door.

—-

Let me clarify on Qing Hang’s behalf: he’s not old.

You can say he’s a virgin, but you can’t call him an old virgin. That would make him seem rather inadequate.